


Perfect Vision

by sternfleck



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Anal Sex, Armitage Hux Wears Glasses, Come Shot, Engineer Armitage Hux, Established Relationship, Glasses kink, Grand Marshal Armitage Hux, Jock/Nerd Thematics, Kylo Is a Little Shit, Kylux Positivity Week, Kylux Positivity Week 2020, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Power Bottom Armitage Hux, Pre-Star Wars: Duel of the Fates, Rimming, Service Top Kylo Ren, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, Title Kink, Under-negotiated Kink, a tiny bit of boot kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:49:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24963295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sternfleck/pseuds/sternfleck
Summary: “Surely you knew.” Hux furrows his brow. “I’m practically blind without corrective lenses of some sort.”Hux wears glasses. Kylo is into it.Or: fierce warrior seeks delicate engineer, to pursue naughty activities on top of said engineer's superweapon schematics.For Kylux Positivity Week 2.0, Day 2. Prompt: "Opposites Attract."
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 31
Kudos: 141
Collections: Kylux Positivity Week 2.0





	Perfect Vision

**Author's Note:**

  * For [surrenderer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/surrenderer/gifts).



> I said "Hux in glasses," and [surrenderer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/surrenderer/pseuds/surrenderer), like an absolute smut genius, said, "Kylo coming on Hux's glasses." When I regained consciousness, this fic had been written. Somehow it ended up filthy enough to make a glacier blush. Forgive me...or, you're welcome. The credit is yours, friend, while I accept all blame.

A session in the training gym leaves Kylo lank-haired and glazed with sweat. Apart from time spent in battle, he’s never more conscious of his body than after training. His strength, his size. The way ‘troopers and officers move out of his way as he passes through the halls of the _Finalizer_ towards the bridge, looking for Hux.

It’s not as though it’s news to Kylo that he’s a large man. He’s been tall and broad-shouldered since his late growth spurt, which changed him from a cute (if gangly and big-eared) kid into something monstrous, to be obeyed or avoided. But Kylo spends so much time immersed in the Force that he often forgets his body exists at all. Only after training does his own strength lie foremost in his mind.

Strength, for the Supreme Leader of the First Order, demands an object to receive and endure it. Many objects, in Kylo’s case. In battle, he bends the Galaxy to his will. He kills anyone who dares to question his right to rule over all in the known universe. He rules the Order without sentiment, reading his subordinates’ minds and eliminating any who show disloyalty.

These are Kylo’s duties, and he enjoys them well enough. But his greater pleasure is to demonstrate his fullest strength on the man who will soon rule the Galaxy beside him.

Hux takes pleasure from it too. In Hux’s idle fantasies, Kylo bends him in half with the Force and holds him like that, ankles on Kylo’s shoulders, fucking into him hard and rough until Hux begs and weeps and comes all over his soft belly, cock untouched. Kylo can only hope Hux has been daydreaming today, because even after training, Kylo is ready to exert himself further.

But when he arrives on the bridge, Hux isn’t there.

Kylo scans the scene: the usual officers at their consoles, all of them avoiding the roped-off area where damage from a recent Resistance attack has yet to be repaired. The attack, a suicide strike inspired by that Rebel Admiral’s gesture with the _Raddus_ , took out a ‘trooper barracks, a bank of research laboratories, and the _Finalizer_ ’s entire stockpile of provisions. Other Order ships have contributed rations from their stocks, but the supply chains are still snarled up, and lately everyone on board the _Finalizer_ has been making do with substandard food and a shortage of necessities.

Hux is most likely in his office, making efforts to solve this set of problems. He has a new daily ritual of negotiating with suppliers on pro-Order worlds, trying to restock the ship. Kylo abandons the bridge and ventures down the hall.

But Hux isn’t in his office either. Kylo leans against the wall outside and drops into his sense of the living Force, seeking Hux’s bright cold presence.

Ah. There he is. He’s in a conference room, alone, absorbed in some activity that has his total focus. That’s good news for Kylo. There’s always a terrible, childish joy in distracting Hux from one of his pet projects, especially when sex is the end result. Hux’s eyes go from sharp to hazy as Kylo wins his full attention, and his body loses all its wound-tight tension when Kylo is inside him at last. Hux likes to tell himself he’s devoted to the Order above all else, but with the right methods, his dedication to his work can be diverted. Kylo has made a point of learning all these methods well.

When Kylo throws open the door to the conference room, the Grand Marshal doesn’t startle or turn to greet him. 

“Ren,” he says, his back to the door, identifying Kylo without even looking at him. Hux is on his feet, surrounded by holograms projected out of the surface of the conference table—a few old ones of the two Death Stars, and many newer ones of the schematics of Starkiller Base. Sheets of flimsiplast litter the table’s surface, and Hux has three datapads in front of him, their screens aglow.

“Hux,” Kylo answers, matching Hux’s brusque tone. He slides the door shut with the Force, engages the locks, and sidles up behind Hux. He places his hands on either side of Hux’s narrow hips.

“What do you want this time?” Hux inquires, tone mild. “I’m in the middle of an important calculation.”

Kylo doesn’t respond, only lowers his lips to the side of Hux’s neck. Hux’s new uniform has the same high collar as his old one, with a different set of stripes on his sleeve to distinguish his new elevated role. If Kylo had his choice, he would have dressed Hux in something with easier access to Hux’s best features—perhaps something of silk and lace with a cutout over his perfect little ass. But Hux is a traditionalist, and he gets cold easily. He likes to stay covered up, and even the will of the Supreme Leader can’t change that.

“It’s not in your own interests to distract me, Ren.” Hux contradicts his own words when he leans into Kylo’s kisses. “This work of mine is for your benefit as much as anyone’s.”

“What’s your work?” Kylo speaks with his mouth to Hux’s neck and his nose slotted into the soft place beneath Hux’s ear. He savours the way Hux shivers against his broad chest.

“I’m miniaturising Starkiller’s superlaser. It will fit on a Star Destroyer like this one. We’ll have the power to annihilate a planet from the bridge of any ship in the First Order’s fleet.”

Hux bends, shuffling through his stack of Imperial-era flimsi diagrams. The motion puts his backside in direct contact with Kylo’s crotch. Hux wiggles almost imperceptibly, so subtly that he’d deny it if Kylo asked. But Kylo doesn’t need to ask. He knows all of Hux’s tells and giveaways. With his hands on Hux’s waist, Kylo pulls Hux closer and rubs against him, where his tiny ass is so soft under his jodhpurs. Kylo's cock is hardening so quickly that it leaves him lightheaded.

There’s something inexplicably sexy about Hux whenever he’s bent over his boring little diagrams and charts. Perhaps it’s the contrast between their lifestyles—Kylo is a warrior, while Hux is all mind and thought, with no experience on the battlefield. Perhaps it’s Hux’s delicate body, built for hiding away from the action and giving orders behind the lines.

Perhaps it’s Hux’s sheer brilliance. Kylo was never fond of school even before his disastrous years at the Jedi academy, but Hux must have been a perfect student, absorbing all information on the first pass, getting perfect scores on every assessment. Now Hux puts his keen mind to use for the Order, which, now that Kylo is Supreme Leader, makes Hux’s dedication feel like a personal gift.

“I’ve almost finished calculating the compression and thermal regulation specs for the quintessence cell that will fuel the device,” says Hux, as though he expects Kylo to know and care what this means. He straightens to a standing pose, his back against Kylo’s chest, and gestures to one of his datapads. “See? This new design requires a mere fraction of the kyber reserves used for earlier superweapons. It’s nearly as portable as your lightsaber. But greater in power by several orders of magnitude, of course.”

The smug insinuation in Hux’s voice does not escape Kylo’s notice. How petty. Hux’s competitive streak is practically treasonous. But Kylo has never been able to treat Hux like a traitor.

Lately, especially since Skywalker's demise, Kylo has found it easier to treat Hux like a precious thing—dangerous, brittle, often cruel, but always worthy of worship. Kylo's temper has stabilised in the aftermath of the nightmare on Crait. His breakdowns are less frequent, now that the threat of the Light has ebbed and Kylo has made his full commitment to the Dark. Hux is cautious by nature, never inclined to trust, but with time he's coming to accept Kylo's devotion. Things have slowly evened out between them, their rivalry giving way to something almost like respect.

Hux turns his head to glance at Kylo, to evaluate his Supreme Leader's opinion of the superlaser design. At this new angle, there’s something different about Hux. It’s a thin gleam of silver on Hux’s face, cutting across his sideburn in a line between his temple and his brow.

Kylo grips Hux’s shoulders and tugs him away from the edge of the table, spinning him around. Hux tumbles backwards halfway through a hologram of the first Death Star before catching himself with his elbows on the table’s surface. The blue light of the hologram reflects off the glasses in front of Hux’s eyes, gleaming on the wire frames around them.

“You’re wearing _glasses_ ,” says Kylo, even though it’s more than obvious that Hux, indeed, for some reason, is wearing glasses. 

Hux’s nose twitches. His glasses rise and fall a fraction of an inch.

Kylo’s mouth is suddenly dry, his breath shallow. Why is Hux wearing glasses, and why has he never worn them before? And how does Kylo make absolutely sure that Hux will wear them again, as frequently as possible?

The glasses are old-fashioned, like something from the Imperial era. The thin frame of each lens is rounded below, like Hux’s face, with the wire at the top angled to resemble a compressed half of a hexagon. The lenses are thick, so thick that they make Hux’s eyes look slightly larger. When Hux blinks up at Kylo from behind them, Kylo has to swallow to wet his mouth.

“Surely you knew.” Hux furrows his brow. “I’m practically blind without corrective lenses of some sort.”

But Kylo didn’t know. Even with the Force, this is never something Kylo would have thought to look for in Hux’s mind. Hardly anyone in the Galaxy wears glasses these days, and no one in the First Order uses them, not when all personnel have access to surgical care that allows for permanent vision repair in a matter of hours.

“I haven’t worn these since I was a cadet. The Resistance attack destroyed my supply of in-eye lenses. I used my last pair yesterday.”

Kylo struggles to put words together, to say something sensible instead of what’s running through his head, which is more or less a loop of _Hux in glasses, Hux in glasses, fuck._

“You don’t want...you’ve never gotten your eyes fixed?”

Hux pins Kylo with a cold look made even colder by his silver frames. “Of course I’ve _tried_ , Ren. I’m not a candidate for surgery. I have hope for the development of new surgical techniques, but until then, this is what I must live with.” 

With a trailing sigh, Hux straightens up. He flattens his hands across Kylo’s chest. “Go on, now. Unless you have essential intelligence to impart, I would like to finish my prototype draft.”

Slowly, Kylo shakes his head. He was already determined to derail Hux’s plans for the afternoon, but this glasses development has only strengthened his resolve.

“Your expertise is required in another division,” Kylo says. And, because a well-placed reminder of his new rank goes a long way with Hux, he adds, “Grand Marshal.”

Behind his glasses, Hux’s eyes narrow in dismay. “Kriff. It’s that kriffing representative from the Mid-Rim Trade Consortium again, isn’t it? She’s been giving us hell on our margins for new supplies. As if anyone else is going to buy two years’ worth of soap and razors for an entire army of—ah. Of course. Now I see what you mean.”

The realisation hits as Kylo pushes his broad thigh between Hux’s and slides his hands up Hux’s chest to his shoulders, his neck, his face. Hux squirms as if in protest, but the angle of his hips only serves to reveal to Kylo that Hux is hard in his jodhpurs, and perhaps has been since Kylo walked in and kissed his neck.

 _Easy_ , Kylo wants to say. _Eager_. But when he catches sight of Hux’s face again, he can only think of one thing. 

“Can’t believe how good you look in these.” Kylo buries his fingertips in Hux’s hair and slides his thumbs along the arms of his glasses. “Delicate. Breakable.”

Hux’s eyes darken behind the glass at Kylo’s words of praise. But the last word makes his nose twitch.

“I’m not. No one has succeeded in breaking me thus far. Especially not you.”

Kylo ignores this pointed statement. “You’re clever, too, aren’t you? Do you want to tell me about your new weapon, Grand Marshal? A report for the Supreme Leader.” He grinds his hip between Hux’s, and watches hungrily as Hux’s eyelashes flicker across his cheeks.

“Ah, _Ren_ , you’re incorrigible. This is the time for warfare, not sex. Don’t you have some Dark Side rituals to perform? Must you tempt me while I’m working?” 

“So you’re tempted,” Kylo confirms, stroking Hux’s cheek just below the pane of glass. “I knew it. Your little cock is stiff just from being near me.”

“It’s _not_ little, Ren, and it’s stiff because you’re putting your brutish hands all over me and looking at me like you want to ravish me twice over. Of course I’m aroused. What would you expect? I’m only human.” 

At this admission, Hux’s face colours, which is an absolutely unfair sight. Hux in glasses with a blush on his cheeks? It’s as though the Dark Side has delivered Kylo the perfect vessel for his passions. If Kylo were the type to weaken himself with gratitude, he’d offer up a prayer of thanks.

“On your knees,” Kylo says instead. An image has formed in his mind, as though sent to him directly by the Force. Kylo’s hard cock, Hux’s upturned face, the glint of his glasses, and then—

“My knees? Ren, you know I’m not capable of performing—”

“No, not for that,” Kylo says. Hux’s small toothy mouth and tense jaw would be unable to give much pleasure to even an average cock, let alone Kylo’s. “Just trust me.”

Hux’s brow furrows, and he makes no move to obey. “Coming from you, those may be the three most terrifying words in the Basic language.”

There are, in fact, three words far more terrifying to Hux than the ones Kylo just said. Kylo has said them to Hux before, and knows better than to ruin the moment by saying them now. There are some truths better left mutually unspoken.

Instead, Kylo lifts his hand and draws a tendril of Force-energy out of the air to wrap it around the back of Hux’s knees. He lays another broad strand of the Force across Hux’s shoulders, and, with a flick of his fingertip, adds weight until Hux sinks to his knees.

Hux’s hands fly out as if to steady himself, but he falls gracefully. His brows are drawn together in displeasure. Even so, behind his glasses, Hux’s pupils are blown. Helpless desire—Hux’s desire—hits Kylo like a wave out of the Force. Hux has his hand on the blaster on his belt, prepared at any moment to pull it on Kylo in self-defence. Nevertheless, he’s getting off on being held at Kylo’s mercy, forced to kneel. His narrow chest rises and falls with each rough breath.

“That’s right,” Kylo murmurs, pulling off his gloves and casting them to the floor before tangling his hands in Hux’s hair. “That’s my Hux. Good. You know that’s what I wanted.”

“This is madness, Ren. What are your intentions?”

In spite of his prickly words, the tension in Hux’s shoulders is already dissolving when he shuts his eyes and leans into Kylo’s touch. He’s still poised to reach for his blaster, but his hand is drifting closer to the centre of his hips, to palm himself through his jodhpurs. When Hux arches his back into his own touch, Kylo tugs his hair lightly and Hux’s eyes fly open again, wide and dark and almost cute, with the way they’re slightly magnified.

“Tell me about your weapon,” Kylo orders, because there’s nothing in the Galaxy he wants more right now than Hux on his knees, pretty face upturned, babbling about his new technologies like he’s a mere engineer instead of the second most powerful man in the Galaxy.

Hux’s lips part, but not to speak. His eyes travel down Kylo’s body from his face to his chest to the skirt of his tunic.

“Make it worth my while,” counters Hux. “I may not be able to take you down my throat, but I still want to see you.”

“You mean my cock, Hux? You want my big cock in your face while you tell me how you’re going to crush the Resistance?”

Hux’s nose wrinkles. “Don’t be crude. Strip. I know you’ve been training—you smell like the gym sonic. Show me how you’ve built your strength for me.”

Even with Kylo’s Force-hold on his shoulders, Hux is imperious. Giving orders from his knees. When Hux stops speaking, he keeps his lips slightly open, like he’s waiting for Kylo to bend down and kiss him, or feed him a load of come.

With one hand still buried in Hux’s hair, Kylo pushes apart the first fastener at the neck of his quilted tunic. A striptease wasn’t part of his plan for their encounter, but Hux always has a way of turning the tables on Kylo, and Kylo, even as he gazes down at Hux’s upturned face, is, as usual, not fully certain which of them is in charge.

Hux watches with avid eyes as Kylo undresses himself down to his undershirt. His gaze roves over all of Kylo’s bared skin, where he’s pale and flecked with moles.

“Your vest, too,” Hux demands. Under his uniform tunic, he runs his flat hand along the ridge of his erection, eyelids fluttering. “Show me your lovely tits. I know how sensitive you are there, _Supreme Leader._ ” 

In his leggings, Kylo’s cock jumps so hard Hux must have seen it. Oh, Hux is smirking now. He did see it. Fuck.

Kylo tugs his undershirt one-handed over his head, and throws it to the floor, irked at Hux for his arrogance and at himself for being so easy. But Hux isn’t wrong. Kylo’s nipples are sensitive. If he puts on a show for Hux and plays with them while Hux jerks him off, Kylo will be close in no time at all. 

When he looks down at Hux again, Hux has retrieved from his uniform the small cartridge of lubricant he carries for situations like this one. He pulls off his gloves and squeezes a fat clear pearl of lube onto his palm, then clicks his tongue.

“Out with it,” Hux orders, crisp and lofty. “If you can’t be kept from interrupting my work with your perversions, at least you can have the courtesy to not delay our encounter.”

“You can’t wait to get your hands on me,” Kylo accuses, even as he tugs down the waistband of his leggings and lets his erection spring free.

Hux draws back, but not quickly enough. Kylo’s cock hits the side of his face and sets his glasses askew. He winces, lifts his clean hand to put them back in order. But Kylo, his mouth desert-dry, stills Hux’s hands with the Force. Hux’s hair is already a mess from Kylo running his hands through it, and now his glasses are crooked from a slap from Kylo’s cock. His cheeks and lips are flushed, and his hips are twitching slightly. His knees must be bruising against the durasteel floor, too.

As Kylo takes in the sight of Hux, a bead of pre-come falls from the swollen head of his cock. It lands on Hux’s jodhpurs, and Hux’s nose twitches again.

“You’ve already made a mess of me,” he says in dismay, raising his slick hand and running it down the underside of Kylo’s cock from head to root. “Are you proud of yourself, you scoundrel? The Grand Marshal of the First Order, on his knees for you like a whore. Or a knight,” says Hux, peering at Kylo above his glasses’ angled tops. “I’ve heard knights spend a great deal of time on their knees.”

Kylo has no retort handy. His mind is already empty of wit and filled with images of Hux’s wry, pretty face in every state of erotic defilement. Kylo circles his nipples with his thumbs, pressing hard into the meat of his pectorals and biting back a gasp. His hips buck when Hux adds his other hand to Kylo’s cock and tugs it through both his slick fists. Kylo is far closer than he should be, but then, when he sought Hux out after training, he didn’t expect Hux to be wearing a pair of glasses. He didn’t expect Hux to look so disgustingly clever, and sharp, and haughty, and _cute_.

“Tell me when you’re going to come,” Hux murmurs. He blinks up at Kylo and strokes him with his slick hand in a tender, proprietary way. “I’ll put my mouth on you and swallow everything.”

Kylo bites his lip and nods. But he has no intention of coming in Hux’s mouth. The Force has shown him a far superior vision of where he should shoot his load. It would disrespect his Dark Side discipline to waste his orgasm in Hux’s mouth.

Hux, as if to demonstrate his sincerity, puts his lips to Kylo’s cock. He sticks out his small pink tongue and laps away the pre-come from Kylo’s slit. It’s a devastating sight. Kylo struggles to still his hips. A moan is rising up his throat, wanton and sluttish, and he bites it back.

“Lovely, Supreme Leader,” Hux whispers, his eyes locked on Kylo’s. Each syllable is a hot breath grazing the head of Kylo’s cock.

He tongues the underside of the head, little flickering licks, and doesn’t quite manage to keep his front teeth out of the way. The threat of pain only sweetens the act for Kylo. Pleasure builds in the depths of his body, heavy in his gut. He throws back his head as Hux strokes him closer and closer. 

Kylo laces one of his hands into Hux’s hair again, clenching his fist and pulling slightly. Hux makes a small pained noise against Kylo’s cock, but he opens his mouth wider until his jaw clicks in protest, trying to take more of Kylo’s cock inside the wet soft heat of his mouth. He’ll never be good at sucking cock in the way Kylo is, but he always gives his best effort, applying himself in the same thorough way he approaches all his interests.

It makes Kylo’s balls tighten to see Hux’s dedication, his focus, as he jerks Kylo’s thick cock and licks sweetly at the flushed head. He’s treating Kylo’s orgasm like a crucial goal to reach in his work for the Order. Hux looks almost peaceful, like there’s nothing he’d rather be doing with his time than putting his mouth on Kylo to make him come. As he licks away a new bead of pre-come, Hux moans slightly at the taste, canting his hips, enjoying himself. Hux is so _compliant_ like this, doing his best to please Kylo, his pretty eyes going hazy behind his glasses... 

Kylo is too far gone. He puts one hand over Hux’s on his cock, and tugs Hux’s head back with the hand that’s in his hair. He hisses out a sharp throaty groan as he comes all over Hux’s face.

“Ah!” Hux’s cry of surprise drags another pulse of come out of Kylo’s cock, into Hux’s messy ginger hair. “Ren!”

Kylo can only moan. He untangles his hand from Hux’s hair and braces himself against the edge of the conference table.

“Ren!” Hux says again. “You beast! I’m covered! There’s so much!”

“Sorry,” Kylo mutters, trying to catch his breath. But he’s never been less sorry for anything in his life than when he looks down at Hux on his knees and sees his upturned face and hair and _glasses_ decorated with streak after streak of messy white spend. 

“I can’t see a kriffing _thing_ like this. You absolute savage!” 

Hux struggles against Kylo’s Force-hold, trying to rise to his feet. Kylo releases him, and braces for a kick or a slap. But when Hux stumbles and stands up, he doesn’t lash out at Kylo, or even move to wipe the come off his face. Hux only scowls, leaning unsteadily against the edge of the table and blinking behind his come-streaked glasses.

There have been countless times over the years when Kylo has gone weak at the sight of Hux. But Hux like this looks light-years better even than Kylo’s vision of the moment. The reward has been entirely worth provoking Hux’s dismay. Hux could draw his blaster right now and shoot Kylo point-blank in his bare chest, and Kylo would die happy.

“Tell me you have a plan to make this up to me,” Hux snaps, lapping away the strand of come that crowns his upper lip and swallowing it. “You must, Ren. This is an outrage. How am I supposed to return to the bridge with your filth all over my face?”

“Don’t go back to the bridge,” Kylo says, which, in his opinion, is a sensible proposal. “Stay here and I’ll fuck you on the table.”

Hux’s mouth tightens, even as fresh arousal weakens his knees and spins out into the Force around him. He’s still hard, has been hard all while he was servicing Kylo.

“You’ve just unloaded a week’s worth of orgasms all over my face, Ren. You can’t expect me to believe you’ll be able to summon a lasting erection to give me the fucking I deserve.”

“You lack faith in the power of the Dark Side,” Kylo admonishes. “The Force will keep me strong.”

Even without the Force, Kylo's spent cock twitches every time he catches a glimpse of Hux’s decorated glasses. By the time Kylo fingers Hux open and gets that tight little hole loose and ready to take him, he’ll be hard again even without the power of the Force.

Hux is eyeing Kylo in a canny, evaluative way.

“You’re too fond of these,” he says, wiping a bead of come away from the lower edge of the wire frame of one glasses lens. He licks his finger. “What is it about them? They make me look weak. I don’t think that’s how you prefer me.”

Kylo shakes his head. He’s not sure exactly what does it for him about Hux’s glasses, but it’s not any hint of weakness. Hux is too sharp and cunning to ever come across as truly weak.

“You look clever,” Kylo says, and feels foolish for saying it. “Cold. Ruthless. And...cute?”

Hux wrinkles his nose and blinks rapidly, taken aback. “I’m not cute, Ren.” He uses the side of his hand to wipe away a drip on his cheek, curling his fingers and carefully licking them clean with the tip of his pink tongue. “And of course I’m clever. I’m the brightest engineering mind since Director Krennic. Surely you don’t need to see me in glasses to recognise that.”

As he speaks, Hux unclips the belt around his waist and unbuttons his jodhpurs. He tugs them down around his slim thighs and hops up onto the table, lifting one booted foot and pressing the toe into Kylo’s abdomen.

“Take these off for me, Supreme Leader. If you wouldn’t mind.”

How can Hux treat Kylo like he’s a mere vassal when Hux is the one dripping with Kylo’s spend? His haughty dignity is immutable, intrinsic to him in every situation. Hux’s refusal to wipe his face clean is almost a challenge. As much as Hux complained at being covered in come, now he seems almost proud to be lashed with the product of the climax he pulled from Kylo with his soft hot mouth and eager hands.

Kylo pulls off Hux’s boots and his socks, then tugs down his jodhpurs and tosses them to the floor. Hux wiggles on the conference table and leans back on his elbows, knocking a stack of flimsi aside. His knees are pink from kneeling for Kylo, and his underclothes are dark where the head of his cock has leaked pre-come.

Keeping his face expressionless, Kylo meets Hux’s eyes before bending to mouth at Hux’s cock over the fabric. He tastes like salt and the new laundry soap they’ve been using since the Resistance attack. It’s heady how _clean_ Hux always tastes, like his long limbs and silky skin were put together just for Kylo to enjoy.

Kylo pulls up Hux’s tunic to show his pale stomach. Then he tugs down Hux’s underwear and laps at his prick until Hux brings his hand to his mouth to stifle a cry. 

“Give me that.” Kylo reaches for Hux’s lube cartridge and dribbles the last of it generously over his fingers. With the Force, he pulls Hux’s legs high, propping his calves on Kylo’s shoulders.

Hux is blushing again under the smeared drips of Kylo’s come. It’s no wonder he’s embarrassed. He’s out of his element, a ruthless engineer and military leader turned into a sight straight out of New Republic holoporn. All because Kylo had never considered how unreasonably erotic it would be to see Hux in a pair of glasses.

Well, it’s too late for Kylo to show any shame. If Hux had only _told_ him earlier, Kylo could have enjoyed him in his glasses all along. The possibilities assail Kylo like Dark Side visions. Hux on his blue sofa in glasses and his silk robe. Hux lounging in glasses and his greatcoat and nothing else. Hux, in glasses, straddling Kylo’s lap in his TIE Silencer. Hux in glasses on the bridge with a curved plug inside him, trying not to come all over himself when Kylo ghosts over his skin with the touch of the Force.

Kylo parts Hux’s cheeks with his slick hand and slips a finger inside him. Hux gasps, shudders, whines, his shoulders going tense under the padding of his uniform. One of Hux’s hands is knotted in his own hair, the other white-knuckled against the surface of his work table. Holograms of past superweapons float around him, shimmering blue and grey.

As Kylo fingers him open, Hux’s breaths grow deeper and rougher, until, by the time Kylo is hard again and scissoring two fingers inside him, every breath from Hux’s throat is a sharp little moan of need. He’s practically panting, thrusting his hips up, desperate to be fucked even though it would leave him sore if Kylo thrust his cock into him now.

It’s a tempting thought. Hux loves the ache of it when he’s tight, and screams so prettily, _yes yes yes_ and _stars, Supreme Leader, fuck me_. Kylo always moves slowly and pets Hux’s hair and whispers encouragement, and licks him clean afterwards to soothe the stretched muscle.

But if Hux is sore after this, Kylo won’t get to fuck him later. And when Hux is wearing his glasses tonight in his quarters, Kylo fully intends to make up for lost time—perhaps in Hux’s ‘fresher, with Hux bent over the counter in front of the mirror until his ribs are bruised and he’s limp and spent and almost smiling.

In the spirit of preserving Hux for future encounters, Kylo adds a third finger, then a fourth. The lube makes wet noises that mingle with Hux’s breathy cries. Every time Kylo skims over Hux’s prostate, Hux gets loud. This conference room is probably soundproofed, but even if it isn’t, what does it matter? Hux disagrees, but Kylo is of the opinion that the occasional robust semi-public encounter between the Supreme Leader and his Grand Marshal offers a good show of solidarity among the First Order leadership, and likely boosts morale.

“Ren,” Hux says in a remarkably level voice, staring hazily over the top of his splattered lenses as though he means to shake Kylo from his thoughts. “Now. Go on. Fuck me. I’m ready.”

But Kylo has caught sight of the weapon designs on the table, scattered under Hux’s back. Hux’s ruthless mind is even more stimulating to Kylo than his glasses, and Kylo needs to hear Hux talking, describing his brilliant work while Kylo takes him apart.

“Tell me about your design while I fuck you.”

“Ah, Ren, really? My glasses and now my inventions? Oh, yes, there, _there, yes._ Who knew a big warrior like you could ever have such a— _ah!_ —a soft spot for my intellectual side?” 

Kylo swirls his middle fingertip around Hux’s prostate, and Hux, with a sharp whine, drives his heels into Kylo’s shoulders, dragging him closer. But Kylo holds back, toying with Hux, admiring the marks of his kisses on Hux’s neck, the streak of come drying on Hux’s left sideburn, and, most of all, those fucking glasses that get Kylo going like nothing else. They make Hux’s eyes look innocent and devastatingly cold at the same time. Kylo wants to look and look and drink in the sight and never let Hux out from under him again.

“Fine, you tease. _Ohh_. Fuck. With this laser, we’ll be capable of— _nnh_ —vaporising any enemy craft in seconds. There’s no comparable technology, fuck, Ren, _please_ just fuck me. Nothing like this design anywhere in the Galaxy. This will win us the war. This time next year we’ll be on Coruscant, _stars_ , and the Galaxy will be under— _ah oh stars_ Ren that’s so good, so good, yes, you brute, _fuck_.” 

As Hux speaks, Kylo pins him to the durasteel table with the Force, then with his body. Hux loses his words and dissolves into moans when Kylo sinks inside him to the hilt. He struggles free of Kylo’s hold on his arms and wraps them around Kylo, tugging at his hair. Kylo eats up the moans out of Hux’s throat, kissing the come away from his cheeks, his forehead. He thrusts into Hux quickly, drawing almost all the way out before plunging back in.

Through the Force, Hux’s pleasure comes to Kylo mingled with something else, a strange and uncharacteristic gratitude. But Kylo has no will to look deeper into Hux’s mind at the moment. Every molecule in Kylo’s body is focused on keeping from coming too soon as he looks down at Hux, whose pretty mouth is open, his glasses askew.

Possessed by an impulse straight from his Dark Side passions, Kylo lowers his face to Hux’s, as if to kiss him. Hux chases his mouth, but instead of kissing him, Kylo lowers his lips to Hux’s glasses, to lick his own come away from the lenses.

Hux shrieks and startles under Kylo, his cock pulsing under Kylo’s belly even as he scrunches his face and tries to pull away. 

“What?! Ren, I need those to see!”

“I’m cleaning them,” Kylo mumbles, voice rough with lust. He laps at Hux’s brow and sideburn too, until Hux is relaxed and moaning again, digging the pads of his fingers into Kylo’s shoulders and angling his hips up into Kylo’s.

“You’re filthy,” Hux hisses, and it sounds like praise. He’s close. His cock leaks all over Kylo's stomach with every sharp thrust. “You’re so big everywhere, disgusting boy, _fuck_ , oh, Ren. Tell me how you like me like this, ah, _yes_.” 

“Fucking perfect,” Kylo gasps, struggling to keep his rhythm. “Perfect, pretty...you’re so smart, Hux, your fucking glasses make you look so smart and mean. My perfect soldier. You’re so hot inside, Hux, fuck, your little hole is going to make me come—”

This close to orgasm, Kylo’s words are clumsy nonsense. But Hux’s hands tighten on Kylo’s firm shoulders and he ruts his fat little cock up against the muscles of Kylo’s belly, going desperate under Kylo’s praise. His chest heaves, and his glazed eyes roll back. Then Hux tosses his head to the side and, with a series of sharp moans, he comes.

His slender body goes taut in Kylo’s arms, delicate and so soft underneath him. As Hux climaxes, his hole contracts again and again around Kylo, stroking him, and then Kylo is coming, spilling into Hux and biting Hux’s neck to keep from screaming. Hux gasps and whines at the pain, pushing his ass up to take Kylo deeper inside him and moaning Kylo’s name.

After, there’s silence. Only the quiet whirr of the holoprojectors, and the soft quick thudding of Hux’s heartbeat in Kylo’s ear. Hux loosens his grip on Kylo’s shoulders. He presses a quick kiss to Kylo’s forehead, just at his hairline, then turns his face away, as if to say _that wasn’t me._

When Kylo pulls out of him, come drips down from Hux’s hole over the edge of the conference table. It’s one of the filthiest, most erotic sights Kylo has ever seen, especially when Hux sits up on his elbows and blinks at Kylo from behind his glasses. The lenses are still smeared, marked from the messy strokes of Kylo’s tongue. 

There’s a refresher across the hall where Hux will be able to clean himself up, but Kylo, dedicated as always, makes the decision to help Hux with his task. Tucking himself back into his leggings, Kylo drops to his knees and licks up the mess dripping out of Hux, slurping at the durasteel table and swirling his tongue around the silky heat of Hux’s fucked-open rim. He licks all over Hux’s sac, too, and nibbles at his pale inner thighs. Finally, Kylo kisses away the come spilled all over the soft swell of Hux’s belly. Hux’s spend tastes different from his own. Saltier, thinner in texture. A delicacy.

“Ren,” whispers Hux, breathless, lacing his hand through Kylo’s hair. “Good. That’s good. Serving me with your mouth. Good boy.”

For a while, they rest like that, Kylo with his face buried in Hux’s upper abdomen, Hux with his fingers tracing circles on Kylo’s scalp.

At last, Kylo breaks the hush.

“You enjoyed all of that. More than I thought you would.” Kylo hadn’t expected that Hux would even allow Kylo to fuck him after he blew his load all over Hux’s face.

Hux snorts lightly. “I’m a soft touch now that I’m Grand Marshal, I suppose you’ll say.”

Kylo blinks up at him, long and slow. “Didn’t think you would like it when I fucked up your glasses.”

Hux wrinkles his nose. There’s still a spot of come on the bridge of it, drying.

“You didn’t harm them. And I can’t complain about the enthusiasm on your part. In my current state of disability, your attentions flatter me.”

“Disability?”

Hux taps the lower rim of his glasses, mouth tight. “My poor vision is a vulnerability. A flaw. I suffered negative attention for these when I was younger. Mostly from old Imperial officers who ought to have known better than to be cruel to a child.”

“They’re not a disability,” Kylo protests. “They’re...you should wear them all the time. I could make you. I could order you to do it.”

Hux scoffs, his fingers still smoothing Kylo’s hair. “It would undermine collective respect for the face of the Order. It’s unbecoming for a military commander to show such obvious unfitness for a life of war.”

But Hux has always been unfit for war, at least the type of war Kylo is used to fighting. Hux is more than capable of defending himself if necessary, and he doesn’t shrink from bloodshed, but he’s made for institutional power, not physical strength. Hux is built for giving orders on the bridge, reviewing officer reports, designing weapons. He’s not made for the battlefield, but for conference rooms like this one. Where Kylo can come on his glasses and rail him on a table, surrounded by holograms of Hux’s lethal designs.

“Your weapons will end this war,” Kylo points out. “You don’t need to look like a warrior. You’ll be the Galaxy’s Chancellor soon.” Kylo pauses. “Chancellors can wear glasses.”

“Oh, Supreme Leader.” Hux shoots a long and hazy glance over his frames. “Such sweet words. You’ll make me blush.”

He struggles upright, taking Kylo’s arm for stability as he slides off the table. Sheets of flimsi flutter to the floor. Hux’s mouth tightens as he takes in the disorder of his workspace. But Kylo’s mouth is wet all over again at the sight of Hux in only his uniform tunic, long legs bare, copper hair falling over his forehead, his glasses wrecked and smeary.

Hux notices his stare, and smirks.

“Surely you don’t require _more_ from me at the moment? Even the Force can’t set you up for a third round.” 

He bends to retrieve his jodhpurs and underwear, and hands his boots to Kylo, expecting his help to put them back on. But Kylo won’t help Hux without first setting things straight.

“Grand Marshal, you underestimate the power of the Dark Side. You have a new assignment. Tonight. At 2200 hours, be in your quarters, fully prepared for my arrival.”

Hux hums his enthusiastic assent, still smirking. He leans against the table as he dresses himself. When his jodhpurs and socks are on once more, Hux extends his leg towards Kylo’s chest, wordlessly requesting assistance.

Kylo swallows the water in his mouth as he drops to one knee and slides one boot up Hux’s narrow calf. Hux stares at Kylo from behind his clouded glasses, chilly and proud. Despite his hair’s post-coital disarray, Hux looks more regal now than ever. Hux said his glasses showed his weakness, but Kylo still can’t agree. Hux wears his glasses like a crown. He looks—now more than ever—like he expects to rule the Galaxy. 

Brushing his lips over the polished toe of Hux’s boot, Kylo makes the same silent vow he’s made a hundred times or more. If only for this thrill of bending before him, Kylo will make sure he wins Hux a throne.

**Author's Note:**

> [These](https://www.oliverpeoples.com/international/0OV1228T--5036) are my ref for Hux's glasses—austere and traditional, but with interesting angles.
> 
> If you're familiar with [Arcana Imperii](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1694788), my Duel of the Fates series, feel free to imagine this as a prequel.
> 
> You can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/sternfleck) and [tumblr](https://sternfleck.tumblr.com/).


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